


Comfort Food

by enigmaticblue



Series: Ghosts from the Past [8]
Category: NCIS, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 17:58:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14526069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: The one down side to Atlantis, at least in Tony’s book, is the lack of a kitchen.





	Comfort Food

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the April Amnesty Challenge for hc_bingo. SGA/NCIS crossover for the prompt: “comfort food or item/feeding someone.”

The cooks on Atlantis are talented souls, and Tony hasn’t had a bad meal yet, but if they’d been back on earth, Tony would have suggested they hole up in his apartment. If they’d both been healthy, Tony would have fucked him on every available surface—or been fucked—and then either cooked or ordered delivery.

 

It’s one of the nice things about being stationed in Colorado these days. When John’s in town, they don’t have to worry about family obligations.

 

After the heavy conversation the prior night, and everything that’s happened over the last few weeks, Tony thinks they deserve comfort food. And yet he has no idea how to provide it.

 

Unfortunately, John has a mission that he can’t reschedule and can’t get a sub for, so Tony has a chance to wander the city. No one seems to care where he goes, and he winds up in the cafeteria.

 

“Can I get you something, Assistant Director DiNozzo?” Tony turns to see a young woman standing behind him. “We aren’t serving lunch yet, but I could probably throw a snack together for you if you’re hungry.”

 

Tony shakes his head. “No, I got breakfast. Are there any kitchen facilities, or any way to get supplies?” He checks her nametag and rank insignia. “Sergeant Dawson. Were you the one who made the cake for us?”

 

“Yes, sir,” she replies.

 

“It was delicious,” Tony says. “Thank you.”

 

She smiles. “It was my pleasure, sir. I’m afraid that there aren’t any kitchen facilities for use by anyone other than staff, but I’d be happy to see if we can make a special meal for you guys.”

 

“I was looking for some comfort food, actually,” Tony replies. “But I am not entirely sure what that looks like to Colonel Sheppard, at least not on Atlantis.”

 

Tony knows that John has varied tastes, and he isn’t a picky eater. Dawson doesn’t even blink at the request, though. “I think I know just the thing,” she replies. “I’ll be happy to provide a special dinner to you guys in Colonel Sheppard’s quarters, sir.”

 

“You could call me Tony,” he says, without much hope of that happening.

 

She smiles. “I could, yes, sir.”

 

“Just Agent DiNozzo, then,” Tony says. “Can I ask what you’re making?”

 

“Well, the colonel is fond of turkey sandwiches, but there are a few other things I’ve noticed he likes specifically,” Dawson replies. “You’re Italian, sir?”

 

“Yeah, but don’t let that influence you,” Tony says. “I just want to have a nice meal with my husband.”

 

Dawson smiles. “That I can do, sir. I’ll have dinner in your quarters at 7.”

 

Tony spends the rest of the day exploring Atlantis, and once he gets online, catching up on reading through reports.

 

He’s hoping John will return before dinner arrives, but 7 pm comes, and a young lance corporal turns up with dinner under covers. “Thank you,” Tony says. “I appreciate the special treatment.”

 

“It’s our pleasure, sir,” the man says. “Colonel Sheppard is a hero.”

 

Tony doesn’t disagree, but he’s a hero who doesn’t show up for dinner. There’s a mini-fridge in John’s quarters, and Tony eventually puts John’s dinner in there and eats his own. John’s comfort food, at least in Dawson’s mind, is apparently meatloaf, mashed potatoes and green beans, but Tony can’t fault him. Everything is cooked to perfection, and he can’t say that he’s ever had better meatloaf. There’s a subtle Italian note to it that he appreciates.

 

And, he has to think about what their lives would be like if he did come to Atlantis full time, or if John wound up on Earth. There are probably a lot of interrupted romantic dinners in their future, just because of who they are, and the jobs they’ll probably take, even if they retire from what they’re doing now.

 

When John finally appears, he’s filthy and bedraggled, his hair plastered in mud, and when Tony opens his mouth to ask him about it, John says, “No. I’ll let you read the mission report, but it sucked, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“Go get cleaned up,” Tony says. “I’ll reheat your meal.”

 

John grimaces. “Did you go to a lot of trouble?”

 

“Ask Dawson,” Tony replies. “I asked her for your favorite comfort food.”

 

John’s expression turns dreamy. “Her meatloaf is divine.”

 

“It is,” Tony agrees, amused. “Get cleaned up, John.”

 

There’s a small microwave in the room, and while Tony has to heat things up in stages, he gets the job done. By the time John gets out of the shower, Tony has everything ready to go, and he doesn’t think the food has suffered much.

 

“This looks great,” John says, emerging from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, his chest bare and his hair damp. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

 

“It’s the job, John,” Tony replies. “You know I understand.”

 

John sighs. “I guess it is. Still, thanks for the gesture. I could use the comfort food tonight.”

 

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Tony asks. “We did say we were going try to use our words.”

 

“I had a green Marine on my team to break him in,” John explains. “It was supposed to be a milk run. The people on that planet won’t deal with anybody but me.”

 

Tony leans back in his seat. “I’m guessing whatever happened was the Marine’s fault.”

 

“It was raining, and the path from the gate to the village passes a ravine,” John replies, picking up his fork. “He slipped and sprained his ankle. Ronon and I had to retrieve him, and then _I_ slipped. We had a hell of a time getting him out, especially since there was a flash flood.”

 

Tony grimaces. “Well, that sucks.”

 

“The good news is that the kid doesn’t have more than a sprained ankle, and I’m just a little bruised,” John says philosophically. “If late to the romantic dinner you apparently had planned.”

 

“John, it’s fine,” Tony insists. “How is the food?”

 

“It’s great,” John replies. “And I do appreciate the thought.”

 

“How about you finish dinner, and I give you a blowjob?” Tony suggests. “That should cheer you up.”

 

John grins, but he counters, “How about we 69?”

 

“I like the way you think,” Tony replies.

 

John reaches across the table. “It’s good to have you here, Tony.”

 

“It’s good to be here,” he says.

 

And Tony can understand why John might think about leaving Atlantis, because he’d give up a lot for more nights like this.


End file.
